Of Pastries and Parties
by SerenLyall
Summary: There were times, it seemed, that Leia knew things about Luke-things he had never told her, or anyone still alive. (So of course it was not that she truly "knew" such things...for how could she?) Sometimes, though, this knack of knowing the right thing at the right time came in very useful.


**Disclaimer:** Star Wars and all characters related thereto do not, in any way, shape, or form, belong to me. No copyright infringement intended.

**Time frame:** Within a year of the battle of Yavin.

**A/N:** This is a far jump away from my usual fandom. I think I just need a short respite from _Lord of the Rings_, though. How long that respite will last, I'm not entirely certain (though I can guarantee with almost 100% certainty that I will be returning, likely within a month or two). In the meantime, however, I have decided to try my hand at something a bit...different-another of my classic loves: Star Wars. I hope you all enjoy!

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The celebration dinner was a simple, yet elegant affair. Hosted in honor of a shattered Imperial garrison, the lord and lady of Haashimut had generously invited the leaders of the Rebellion to their grand palace to show their thanks and – or so Leia sincerely hoped – to indicate their willingness to provide support for the growing Alliance. It was a dangerous position for them to be in, so overtly showing their gratitude, but they had insisted. So it was that, on that fine Tuesday evening, Leia, Luke, and a dozen other Rebellion leaders, found themselves standing in the glittering Main Hall of Lord and Lady Velkshir's palace.

Luke stood close to Leia, feeling uncomfortable in the midst of so many well-dressed, high-born people. He sported a high-collared tunic of pale blue and soft grey leggings, with dark boots that laced to his knees, and a cape fastened about his throat with a fine silver chain to match. The clothing had been given to him by Lord Velkshir as yet another gift of gratitude, but though Leia had told him he looked marvelous, he could not quite keep from feeling foolish.

"I'm just a simple farm boy and a fighter pilot," he had protested to Leia when she had asked him to accompany the group down to the planet. "I wasn't born and bred for things like fancy parties and mingling with…with nobility."

At that, Leia had snorted and given him one of her Looks. "Then what am I?" she asked him pointedly, with a quirk of an eyebrow. "A serving girl?" When Luke fumbled and failed to find an answer, Leia merely laughed and touched his elbow. "Just stay close to me," she told him with a smile. "You'll be fine."

And it wasn't exactly that he was _not_ fine, Luke had to admit to himself. But he was still supremely uncomfortable, and trailing after Leia as she flitted around, talking and laughing with men and women twice her age as if she had known them her whole life, garnering smiles and kisses as easily as one plucked a grape from the vine…well, Luke would be lying to himself if he didn't feel the slightest tinge of jealousy.

There was no official banquet for this dinner. Rather, servants trailed in and out of the throng, bearing silver platters filled with bowls of fruit, mugs filled with steaming soup, and small wooden spears sporting roasted meat and vegetables. Other servants bore decanters of wine and jugs of water, ready to fill any glass that was empty.

Leia was standing a few feet away, deeply engrossed in conversation with a regal-looking older woman, whose hair had long since turned silver-grey, and her balding husband. For a moment, Luke tried in vain to follow their conversation, but soon he gave it up as a lost cause – they had both begun using names of people and places that he was unfamiliar with, and he quickly lost track of what they were speaking of.

Turning away from the three, Luke regarded the great hall. At least a hundred people filled the large, marble-tiled room. The east wall lined with huge, vaulted windows, allowing an almost unrestricted view of the planet's glorious sunsets. Two great chandeliers hung from the ceiling, all crystal and glass and shimmering, white-gold lights, and above them soared the gabled roof. In the shadows beyond the bright light of the chandeliers, Luke could only just make out the intricate murals painted onto the ceiling far above.

The people themselves were just as interesting to watch. All were dressed in their finest in honor of the occasion, from dresses of pale silks to doublets of fine velvets. Gems and jewels shone in the light, peering from hair and glinting from brooches, shimmering in necklaces and sparkling from the lobes of ears.

Luke had never before seen such opulence and wealth.

The young pilot sighed, and looked over his shoulder at Leia. She was still deep in conversation with the two elders, her back turned to him, and did not appear to be ready to move on any time soon. Luke turned away once more, and wandered a few steps toward the large windows.

"Pardon me, sir," a smooth voice said softly, and Luke turned to see a servant in fine turquois robes proffering a tray filled with what looked like small pastries. "Would you like one?"

"Sure," Luke replied automatically. He took one of the small pastries and smiled at the serving man. "Thank you."

The serving man smiled in return, nodded his head, and then moved off, to offer his platter to another cluster of noblemen a few paces away.

Luke inspected the pastry, turning it over in his fingers. The bread was golden-brown and flaky, much like a biscuit, though it felt just a little crisper than most biscuits Luke had eaten. When he broke the pastry in half, the delightful, sweet smell of fruit – fresh fruit! the likes of which Luke had only eaten once or twice in his life – wafted out of the cracked bread, along with a thin, sticky juice.

He was just lifting the pastry to his lips when he heard someone – Leia? – call out his name. Luke half turned, hand pausing on its way to his mouth. And then Leia was there, and she was snatching the pastry from his hands.

"Leia, what-" Luke began, startlement, confusion, and the first tinges of alarm rising in his breast. _Is it poisoned?_ he wondered frantically. _Have we been betrayed? Are they trying to kill us?_

"The crust is made with dridjan nuts," Leia said shortly.

For an eternal second, Luke could only stand and stare, mind trying to process just what Leia was saying. And then everything clicked into place, like the tumblers in a lock falling into order. "I'm allergic to dridjan nuts," he said softly. The last time he had eaten dridjan nuts was when he was five. His throat had swollen shut, and he had nearly died. "But I don't remember ever mentioning that to you," he frowned.

"Oh. I just…" Leia trailed off. Her growing frown mirrored Luke's. Then she shook her head, expression clearing, and a gentle, pealing laugh fell from her lips. "I'm just glad I thought to mention it then," she said instead, a smile replacing the dark frown.

"Yeah…" Luke mumbled, grin rising to match hers. "As am I."

Leia's smile broadened, and she linked an arm around Luke's elbow. "Come on," she said lightly, "I want you to meet Duke and Duchess Mithson. I was telling them about your heroics in the battle against the garrison, and I think they want to speak with you personally."

Luke allowed Leia to drag him back into the throng, directing him toward the stern-looking older man and woman he had seen Leia speaking with earlier. He smiled at them, and shook their hands…and he did not notice as Leia carefully dropped the pastry into an out-of-the-way waste bin.

She had refused to eat dridjan nuts ever since she was five.

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**A/N 2: **This first fic is probably a bit cheesy, but it was great fun to write nonetheless (and quite informational too! in regards to characterization, etc.). I must say, both Luke and Leia are difficult characters to get into the heads of. I would love any and all (constructive) feedback you may have: things you thought I did well on, things you think I need to work on...whatever it may be. If this is received well, there's a good chance I'll see about maybe putting up some of the other things I'm tentatively thinking about writing (and am in the process of writing...). So please, review, favorite, shoot me a message-whatever makes you most comfortable. I'd love to hear your thoughts.


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